Pale Demon (The Hollows #9)(21)
Author: Kim Harrison

"Stay with him, will you?" I asked Jenks, my attention on the three guys. They had gotten to the median and hadn’t slowed down. "Maybe get him to run a little?" I added, trying to be funny as I glanced at the worried pixy. "I’ll be right behind you. Piece of cake."

"I don’t like this."

My eyes flicked back to him, seeing his worry in the slant of his brow. "Me neither, but who do you think needs you more right now? I’ll catch you up. Go! It’s just three guys. Once you get Trent to Ivy, you can come back and play."

He made a face, and with a harsh clatter, he bobbed up and down in agreement, then zipped after Trent, telling him to hurry up, that they had things to do today other than play tourist.

I felt better with Jenks watching Trent, but nervousness prickled through me as I turned back to the three blonds, now at the curb. The one with the long hair peeled off and started for Trent.

"Hey, Legolas!" I shouted, my boots grinding the gravel as I shifted. "You want him, you go through me."

Ignoring me, he continued on. That was just insulting, and gathering up a wad of fish-tasting ever-after, I threw it at him.

The guy with the long hair raised his hand, a protection bubble flashing into existence to deflect the ever-after. Standard move. I hadn’t really expected my first shot to land, and I started backing up more, my feet finding grass as I moved under the huge trees. But the men stopped, and that was all I wanted for the moment.

Side by side, the three men looked at me, traffic passing behind them in an uncaring blur. The guy with the long hair seemed to be the leader, and he frowned at Trent, disappearing through the bushes, before turning back to me. "Whatever he’s paying you, the Withons will double it if you turn your back for ten minutes," he said loudly, and my face burned.

Why was I not surprised? Elves were elves. "He’s not paying me anything," I said, just now realizing it. I was either really smart or really stupid.

The short guy on the end snorted his disbelief. "You’re kidding."

Embarrassed, I backed up until the roots of a thick tree stopped me. "And even if he was, I don’t work like that," I said. "Obviously you do. Pathetic. I should have known you were amateurs when you tried to take us out on the expressway. You keep that up, and the union is going to come down hard on you. There are traditions for this kind of thing, procedures. Or haven’t you been playing the game long enough to know?"

I was stalling, and the guy with the long hair knew it, taking a moment to tie his hair back and frown at the arch behind me. I glanced back, a knot of worry easing when I realized Trent was gone.

"Who wants the pleasure?" he asked, and the one in the middle, the one who reminded me of Quen, smiled.

"I’ll do it," he said, and I tensed, shocked when a heavy lassitude filled me. My legs buckled, and that fast, I was on my knees, the tingle of wild magic coursing through me, robbing me of strength. There was music in my head, like green, growing things, and my hands hit the ground, bits of twigs biting into my palms, making them tingle. I gasped, my lungs reluctant to expand.

I fought it, finding strength from the ley line. I pulled it into me, feeling it burn. Teeth clenched, I looked up through the strands of my hair. The man in the middle widened his eyes as if in surprise. And then he started to sing.

My breath escaped me in a rush as his words washed over me, and my head bowed. My elbows trembled, and everything I had won back left me. "Stop…," I whispered. I couldn’t think, the thick, muzzy blanket swallowing me up as he sang, the lazy words unclear as they became my entire world. My pulse shifted, becoming slower, meeting his song beat for beat. It was too slow, and I fought for control, failing.

I felt myself start to fall, and a warm arm caught me, gently cradling me. I could smell cinnamon and wine, bitter and spoiled. I couldn’t fight the music beating its way into my existence, making me live to a rhythm too slow, and my eyes shut as someone propped me up against the tree. I was losing my hold on the ley line, and in terror, I reached for it, trying to make a protection bubble in my mind to wall the music off. But it was already in my head, and I couldn’t separate it from me. It was too beautiful. I couldn’t help but listen.

"That was easy," I heard the long-haired elf say derisively, but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t fight the lassitude that had become my world, hated and familiar from my childhood.

"You have her then?" the voice asked, and finally the singing stopped. The fatigue lingered as the song echoed in my brain, circling over and over, going more slowly each time. It was killing me.

"Go," a breathy voice said, and my head landed on a shoulder. "I’ll be done by the time you finish Kalamack."

Oh God. Trent. But the spark quickly died. My breathing had slowed to a shallow hint. I was faltering. I recognized it. I’d lived this before when I was younger. The grass sighed as two of them left, and it was only me and the elf singing me to death. So beautiful I couldn’t let it go, couldn’t forget it, mesmerized.

The air grew cold on my face, and I realized I was crying. I didn’t want to die like this. Damn elf magic. Wild magic. Divine, slippery…alive, uncontrollable.

Uncontrollable, I thought, fastening on that idea. Malleable. I couldn’t control wild magic, couldn’t fight it. But maybe I could…change it.

My heart gave a thump, and refused to beat again as the man’s voice faltered, leaving a single note in my mind to spiral down to a long, soft hum. Om, perhaps. The sound of peace, the sound of death.

Not yet, I thought, and then I added to it, giving my mind an ugly note to follow the one of pure beauty, and my heart gave a beat at the harshness of it, discordant and wrong. The arms holding me jumped in surprise, jarring me, and I added a new note to follow my first.

I could hear him singing again, the words unclear and so exquisite it broke my heart. My jaw clenched, and I drowned the purity of his song with my own ugly music, harsh and savage-survival. It was never beautiful except for its pure honesty.

Again my heart beat, and I took a sip of air, breaking away from the elven spell, tingling with wild magic as control came flooding back, his hold on me broken. My eyes flashed open. I was sitting on the ground, my back to a tree, his arm around me like a lover, sleeping in the sun as he sang to me.

Son of a bitch.

I sat up out of his reach, turning to see the shock in his green eyes as his voice faltered. There was a hint of resemblance to Trent in them, and I felt a moment of doubt. Could he do this, too? "That was a mistake," I rasped, and then I plowed my fist right into his gut.